


every time you're there (i'm begging you to stay)

by acciothirteen



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciothirteen/pseuds/acciothirteen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco just stood there quietly when as Mario shuffled around. He gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair. "Hey. Mind if I spend the night?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	every time you're there (i'm begging you to stay)

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the match between Bayern and Dortmund.
> 
> Title taken from the song _Only Love Can Hurt Like This_ by Paloma Faith; because the song is brilliant and loving BVB does hurts.

Mario raised an eyebrow when he heard the bell rang. He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's almost midnight. If it's Thomas and Manu again, he'd left them rotting on the porch, he swore to it.

He grumbled when the bell rang again and shuffled towards the door.

He yanked the door open, a frown firmly planted, just in case his friends have any ideas about staying over.

It faded almost instantly when he saw the dejected face of the man standing in front of him, a travel bag in hand.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

His voice sounded tired, so Mario quickly side-stepped to let him in. Mario closed the door behind them and lock the keys and set the alarm.

Marco just stood there quietly when as Mario shuffled around. He gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair. "Hey. Mind if I spend the night?"

"Of course not," Mario said, way too eagerly. If this were anyone else, he'd be embarrassed. But Marco just smiled and kissed his forehead before walking into the hallway like it was his own.

"Do you want something to eat?" Mario asked, trailing behind him. "No, thank you. I just want to go to bed, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course it's okay," Mario replied incredulously. "Why are you being so polite?"

Marco shrugged and took off his sweater before he walked into Mario's bedroom.  
Mario sighed. It's gonna be a long night if he keep that up. Marco's never good at handling defeats, especially one as severe as tonight's. He doesn't get mad, just. Quietly disappointed.

Mario grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed to his room.

"It's okay, right, that I spend the night at his place? You don't mind?"

Mario stopped when he heard Marco's voice, speaking English in a low tone. The door was slightly ajar and he can see the blond standing next to the window.

"How's everyone holding up?" Mario saw his back tensed up. "Leave him for a bit, he'll be fine. What about Adnan?"

He nodded along to whatever the person on the other line was saying. "You should stay with him, give him my stash." A small chuckle escaped him. "Yeah, yeah. Don't let him eat all of it, though. Tuchel would probably kill him in training tomorrow. Yeah. I'll call you later. _Bonsoir_."

Mario tried to ignore the uncomfortable clench on his stomach, and instead focusing on Marco's French, which, sounded kinda hot. He tried to ignore the fact that Marco was calling Auba in the late hour, sounding like he's asking for his permission to stay at Mario's house. It stung a little bit, if he was being completely honest with himself.

He liked Auba. They're not exactly friends, but they respected one another and they both love Marco. But there was something about his relationship with Marco that unsettled Mario.

Like the fact that he was almost always there when Mario called him. Or that Marco's very close to his son, or that Nico's also close with him.

Mario bit his lip. He knew what he sacrificed when he signed that contract, and he's happy here, finally, _finally_ , settling in; and he love his friends dearly, but it's difficult sometimes.

Somewhere between BVB's disastrous last season and Marco's injuries and now _this_ , Mario couldn't help but think that Marco was putting a space between them - an emotional one, in addition to the 5000 kilometers that already existed.

He sighed and cleared his expression before walking in.

Marco was already on his side of the bed, his back facing Mario. The younger one placed the water bottle on the nightstand and slipped into the covers.

His fingers traced Marco's back, drawing random circles and patterns. Marco sighed in content, and Mario took it as an invitation to move closer so that their bodies are pressed together, placing his forehead on the nape of Marco's neck, pressing a soft kiss there.

"I'm sorry," Mario whispered, snaking an arm to Marco's chest, feeling his heartbeat.

Marco intertwined their fingers and rubbed soothing circles with thumb. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You were fantastic out there. I'm so proud of you."

The tone in his voice was genuine, yet it was laced with something that Mario can't really placed. "But?"

Marco was quiet for a moment before he answered. "I was really shit tonight."

"No, you weren't. You were--"

"Shit. Don't try to defend me. I know it's true." He moved and lie on his back, gazing at the ceiling, his hand still in Mario's. "I haven't been right since that injury."

Marco's voice trembled slightly, and Mario could pick up the hint of fear there. It hurt Mario to see him like this. Marco hold himself to an almost impossible standard, which Mario both hate and admire.

"You'll get better. I know you will. You're a hard worker and Tuchel seems really great." Marco just hummed in reply, still staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Hey. Look at me." Mario sat up and straddled him to get his attention when Marco refused. Marco's eyes met his and the blond cracked up a small smile. "I've been down this road before. Do you remember what you told me?"

"Not really. I got distracted by the fantastic sex we had after that," Marco answered cheekily. It's a full-on smile now, Mario can't help but return it with one of his own.

"You said that no matter what happened, you'd stay by my side. And that you loved me," Mario said softly. Marco raised an eyebrow. "I still love you."

Marco said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that Mario blushed a little. Mario shuffled and got off of Marco's lap to sit next to him, mumbling something incoherent.

"Is something wrong?" Marco's voice definitely worried now. "Did I do something to make you doubt the way I feel about you?"

Mario's definitely blushing now. He shrugged lamely and leaned against the headboard, suddenly fascinated with his cuticles.

"Sunny."

Fuck, Mario could not, in a million years, refused that nickname. And the way Marco said it, all deep and serious, kinda made it sound really hot.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Mario gave him a small, reassuring smile, but Marco's having none of it. "Sunny, please talk to me."

And it's not fair, it's really not, when Marco looked at him with that green eyes of his -has it always been that bright? - paired with his long lashes that Mario absolutely adored. So he caved.

"I don't know. I just. We haven't seen each other for a while and I know it's my fault, but. I don't know. I just miss you everyday, even when you're right here with me. Which is insane, right?" Mario chuckled nervously. "I just. I feel like I'm losing you."

Marco's lips are on his almost instantly. He pulled away just as fast, much to Mario's dismay. Marco saw the frown on his face and chuckled, putting his arm around Mario's shoulder tucking his head on the crook of his neck. He kissed Mario's hair gently. "I love you, Sunny. You'll never lose me, I promise."

"And stop saying that it's your fault, that we rarely see each other," he continued, pressing another kiss to his temple. "It's my fault, too. I guess we should've tried harder."

Mario reached Marco's free arm and traced his fingers along the lines of his tattoos.

"Marco."

"Yeah?"

"You and Auba...there's nothing going on, right?" Mario said, his voice small.

"Sunny." Marco's voice was stern. He moved away to look at Mario, his expression weary and closed-off.

"I heard you talking on the phone. And I--"

"Mario Götze." Marco cut him off, cradling Mario's face so the younger man had no choice but to look at him. "I love you with everything I've got. I love you more than anything, which includes football _and_ my mother's cooking. You mean the world to me. I'd rather quit football and chop my own two legs off than to not be with you. Also, fuck you for making me saying all these cheesy shit."

Mario chuckled at that. Marco pressed little kisses on Mario's forehead, trailing down to his nose and neck, to his jaw and collarbone. He brought their forehead together.

"I like it better when you laugh," Marco muttered, his eyes closed. "Sunny."

Mario hummed in reply and slipped under the covers, pulling Marco along with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, okay? But they hugged and it was really cute and they made me feel things.  
> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.acciothirteen.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/acciothirteen).


End file.
